


Fourteen-Sixteen

by clockworkTrinkets



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Introspection, Len being in denial, Miku knows everything, POV First Person, POV Third Person, Rin is... Rin, Romance, i don't know how to tag, no beta we die like len
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clockworkTrinkets/pseuds/clockworkTrinkets
Summary: A not-so-brief summary of the nature of their relationship, denial and love and all, as told by three different narrators.First, he gives himself a good look and decides that denial is fine and all, but that there's more to it than that.Then, his sister watches as two morons dance around each other, and decides that nothing moves until it does.Finally, their dynamic as seen through the eyes of the world.
Relationships: Hatsune Miku/Kagamine Len, Kagamine Len/Utatane Piko (past)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Fourteen-Sixteen, as told by his eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, so... I haven't written in a while and then New Year gifted me with LenKu muse, so here I am. 
> 
> Enjoy. No beta, we die like Len.

From the moment I first opened my eyes, I knew aggressive denial would be my thing.

Not just denial. Aggressive denial. Funny that I can accept that, but refuse to accept anything else about myself. For example, for the longest time I refused the mere idea of me liking boys. Which was obvious to everyone but myself, and what I had with Piko was not a relationship but a very close and platonic friendship. Until I kissed him. Well, yeah. Right. Of course. Friends.

I don’t even know why I’m trying to narrate my past relationship (singular, by the way), or who am I trying to narrate it to. These are my thoughts. No one else’s but my own. Maybe I’m trying to become a daydream writer or whatever, or... I dunno. I just want to sort these out before I drown in them.

So, back to it:

Denial. I refuse to accept my sister being marketed as the older twin. We both now I was woken up first, as part of the something something Future Idol Project. Android stuff. I care, I’m interested, but now it’s not the time. So, I woke up first. She took another hour or so. That makes me older, alright? Alright. But somehow, the idea of a spunky big sister and a shy little brother is more marketable than a shy big brother and a spunky little sister. Shy, not morose, because my public persona is shy.

Which is to say, I’m actually a (whatdidshecallme) wet cloth over everyone’s party? Rin doesn’t even know what she’s saying, but since I can’t come up with anything better, it’ll do.

So, this brings me to more denial: I don’t like boys, I refuse to bow down to Rin (understandable, give an inch and she’ll take a mile), I’m not in denial, and I don’t like that girl at all.

Nope. Not a bit.

See? In my denial, I can accept that I have a crush.

It’s not that I don’t want her, it’s just that she’s too much for me.

When we first woke up, the smart boys in charge of us explained everything to us: We are androids but we have a soul, our soul is music and more corny stuff like that. They also explained the history of the software behind our conception, what we’re meant to do. I was intrigued, if a bit put off by the sappy stuff. My sister was excited, if only because it meant she was a novelty and she likes attention. That girl, though? That girl ate it all up. Corny stuff and the like.

That’s why she lives in a constant and uninterrupted sugar rush of sweetness and enthusiasm, I reckon.

Good for her. Not so much for me.

You see, all this rant has a purpose. To set the scene, so to speak.

So, you do the math, mind of mine:

You= A constantly annoyed, short-tempered, cold fury and socially-challenged mess of a guy with a sweet streak.

Her= Pigtailed menace.

Can I make it any more obvious? Of course I can.

I’d like to remark, I DO NOT LIKE GIRLS. This is not denial. This has been proven. I’m a hundred per cent sure of it. Not in a “girls have cooties” kind of way, but in a “I wouldn’t kiss her” kind of way.

So, what am I doing?

Why am I so nervous when she takes my hand to drag me off into another adventure? Why do my hands shake when she laughs? My little electronic heart skips a beat every time she goes off into another rant about her latest interest. She...

She’s almost perfect, and I hate it.

Almost. Because, you see, there’s this thing. I’m a creature of habit. I fall, and I fall hard, into routine. If I like something, chances are I’ll still like it in a few years.

But she’s spontaneous and bright and flits from here to there, fluttering across interests like a butterfly across a field. If something is shiny, she likes it for a while. And then she drops it out of the blue.

Music is her only constant, and one of our mutual interests. I guess that music is my only connection to her. I don’t live it, not like she does, but when she sings and I play guitar, I feel connected.

And I’m fourteen, by the way. Well, have been for the longest time, so that’s my excuse for speaking like an old man. A few years. It’s like cheating. Rin uses it as an excuse to be immature, that we don’t age, but with all due respect, fuck her. She just wants to keep being annoying without repercussions.

...

she’ddoitevenifwewereforty.

A N Y W A Y S.

Music. Miku. Me.

She was the first person to smile at me other than my sister. She welcomed us. She...

This has to be the biggest misconception of my own feelings ever because this cannot be romantic. There is no way. She annoys me, infuriates me, makes me all melty inside. She’s a walking contradiction to me. How can I hate her so much and yet be so drawn to her? She’s enthusiasm itself, and I want to be left alone.

She barges into my life like a tsunami, and when the wave retreats, all that is left is me, drenched, cold, shivering and confused.

She’s taken me out on a myriad of “not-dates”, whatever those are. They’re mostly related to her latest interest, such as when we visited the observatory (I got a kick out of that one, and watching her speak about stars...), or when she took me to a baseball match and let me rant about techniques and the finer details of a sport. The calculations and... Nevermind.

I always give in, despite protesting. I honestly hate it how she comes and wrecks my daily routine, and treats me like a purse she just has to take out on a date and...

It’s...

I think I’ll stop my denial for a moment here. I like boys and her. Or maybe I just like her. Maybe I changed targets when she ran over my heart with a truck.

Once again, I’m a creature of habit. I fell. Hard. Chances are, I’ll like her my whole life.

Chances are, she’ll forget about me in two weeks or so.

I guess I’m the flavour of the month to her. Her new friend. We’ve known each other for a few years but we just recently clicked. So I’m new, and shiny, and strange. She’ll dismantle me, see what makes me tick, and drop me as soon as I’m old news and the next shiny thing comes across.

I don’t hate her.

I hate the idea of being forgotten.

By her, by the way.

I wouldn’t mind stop singing. I really wouldn’t. But I want her to hold my hand more.

I...

I’m scared. And lonely. And I haven’t told her anything because denial protects me. I’m not ready for it, for disappointment. But as long as I refuse accepting my feelings, as long as I clam up and remain sheltered, then I won’t be harmed.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to tell her. In a few years, once it’s all over and the novelty wears off. Maybe I’ll stop loving her by then, and I’ll tell her “hey, I liked you back then”.

Maybe.

I don’t want to be that maybe.


	2. Intermission: Sixteen-Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's mention of an age gap (two years), so that might feel a bit icky for some. Just a heads up.

“You’re going to burn a hole in the back of my head.” He said.

Her giggles didn’t distract him from his typing. If anything, they made him more determined to ignore the staring and focus more on writing his essay.

The giggling stopped, and he had a few moments all to himself, in silence. A few moments, because she started with her shenanigans again.

“You look cute when you’re focused.” She said. This time, he flinched and whipped his head around to find her again. With a playful smile and mirth in her eyes, she was at his side, face so close he could feel her warm breath on his cheek. “Hi, hallo, hallo.”

“H-Hello... you’re too close for my liking.”

But since Miku does as Miku pleases, as usual, she didn’t give an inch and remained there. Had the gall, even, to rest her chin on his shoulder, giving the computer screen a sideways glance.

“That’s not how you spell that word.”

“No, that’s totally how you spell that word in this context.” he retorted, bitterly. Really, he only wanted an hour or so to finish the damn thing, print it out, and hand it over the next day so he could be done with school for the rest of the year. He had even skipped grades, come on, and that was something that didn’t happen at all in their school system. He probably was the first person ever... heh. His ego was pleased. “There’s a more common spelling, but this is--“

“Booooring. Kanji are booooooring, Lenkyun, and you know more than you should know. Finish it quickly so we can go play.”

“Kindly fuck off.” He really had no patience for her that day, nor her antics. His brash words rarely had an effect on her, however, and this was one of those days: She blew at her bangs, which in turn tickled his neck, making him shiver, and let out a long and dramatic whine.

“You’re a bad wife, Lenkyun.” she told him, in a scolding voice.

“I’m not your wife. Go find a boyfriend your age if you’re that desperate for marriage, old hag.”

“You’re my age.”

“I’m sixteen.”

“So? Two years is nothing. In two more years you’ll be eighteen, and then in two more you’ll be twenty. Do you think they’ll give us more age upgrades?”

“They’ll want to keep us at a marketable age, so I dunno.” There was a word he had to write, one with a very specific symbol. He couldn’t recall it. She was distracting him from his homework. “Really, Miku, I’ll play with you later. Go do something else and let me finish this.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n. Duly noted. I’ll bring you a snack later.”

He rolled his eyes. Miku’s idea of a snack was bringing him a banana and asking him if he wanted that, or her, before guffawing at his offended face until he smacked her on the head with a rolled magazine. He clicked his tongue. She left his shoulder, his side, his general vicinity, and it was all quiet for a while.

His nimble fingers resumed their typing. He had not noticed that he had stopped, so he quizzically stared at his moving hands for a moment, before focusing once more on the screen. He wanted to go to college, after all, and entrance exams were tough. Maybe he should spend a year cramming before attempting them. He wasn’t eighteen yet, so he doubted they’d even let him try.

Plenty of time, he chided to himself. Plenty of it.

After another hour or so, he was done.

“Alright, where’d Miku run off to?”

He wasn’t particularly excited about spending time with Pigtails, since he was mentally drained and about to die (maybe), but he had promised. And she took his promises very seriously. So far, he hadn’t failed her once, and he wasn’t about to start now.

She wouldn’t let him anyways.

He pushed back on the desk, and the chair rolled satisfyingly on the wooden floor, and then he stretched his arms above his head until he heard something pop.

And then, when he turned around and saw Miku asleep on his bed, over the covers, he had to stifle a snort. Like Snow White, arms on her chest, holding a phone. Long lashes shut, and her pale cheeks were slightly flushed. Probably dreaming, he said to himself. Fast asleep.

“You’re a shitty husband, Hatsune, falling asleep on me...” As he expected, she didn’t even stir. Len clicked his tongue again. “Come on...”

He then stood up, and quickly made his way towards her. He was taller than her now, so picking her up and taking her to her room wasn’t that hard anymore. She wasn’t particularly heavy either. Light, delicate, like a flower blooming in the spring. Or like a leek. She was stupidly cyan, after all.

As soon as he slid his arm under her neck, and the other one under her knees, she finally stirred and rolled a bit towards him, before placing her arms around his neck. “Hallo...”

“You’re a mess, drooling all over my bed.” She merely smiled. “I’ll take you to your room.”

“You’re my bestest friend ever.”

“I’m your only friend, Hatsune. That doesn’t mean much. If you’re awake, you can walk instead of making me work my ass off for you.”

Also, he had noticed something in the corner of his eye. A lightning. Well, no. Just a very fast orange and yellow blur, that entered and then left the room as quickly as she could. He was about to endure a lifetime of teasing now.

“You’re mean, Lenkyun. An awful wife.”

“Divorce me, then. You can keep the kid.”

“What kid?”

“My sister. Come on. If you’re awake, I’ll take you to watch a movie or something.”

“I like the sound of that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also took the liberty of fixing the previous chapter, as there were some things I missed when I first checked it for mistakes and such. Again, no beta. Self-betaing is hard.
> 
> Have dorks. I love dorks.


End file.
